


i'm thinking your body

by renquise



Category: VIXX
Genre: (kinda?), Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, Predicament Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 06:36:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11225358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renquise/pseuds/renquise
Summary: Wonshik probably should have seen something like this coming. He had thought it was a joke, at first, just Hakyeon teasing him and making him flustered on broadcasts when he confidently assured their fans that, yes, our Ravi has a great body, please flex for our fans.





	i'm thinking your body

**Author's Note:**

> Uh. ////o\\\\\\\ Also known as, Cha Hakyeon Please Stop Mentioning How Sexy Ravi's Body Is In Every Single Comeback Interview, My Heart Can't Take It And Then I Write Things Like This Um.

Wonshik didn't know what he had expected when Hakyeon had proposed going away for a weekend together after their comeback. But it probably wasn't a chin-up bar in a doorway of the hotel room suite. It was at eye height, with a firm pad beneath it. He tugged on it, then bent his knees to hang his full weight on it. It seemed pretty sturdy. 

“Did you have to, like, ask the receptionist if the doorway was strong enough for this? You’re sure we aren’t going to break the doorframe and have a lot of awkward explaining to do.”

Hakyeon made a face at him and poked at his side hard enough to make him drop off from the bar with a laugh. 

“I’m sure he was happy to know that his customers are diligent enough to exercise on vacation.” Hakyeon paused. “He did pointedly tell me that there was a well-equipped gym in the hotel, if we wanted. Take off your clothes off, already."

Wonshik laughed, raising an eyebrow. "Poor guy probably thought that 'chin-up bar' was like. A cover-up for a weird sex thing."

When he stripped off his shirt, Hakyeon was right there beside him, placing an appreciative hand on his chest, colour high in his cheeks.

"Well. I mean, I was perfectly truthful," Hakyeon said primly.

Wonshik probably should have seen something like this coming. He had thought it was a joke, at first, just Hakyeon teasing him and making him flustered on broadcasts when he confidently assured their fans that, yes, our Ravi has a great body, please flex for our fans, no no, do it again properly.

But on the occasions when he went to the gym with Hakyeon instead of Hongbin, Wonshik could almost feel the weight of Hakyeon’s gaze from across the room while he did reps. He would glance over, and Hakyeon would be sitting on a bench, his hands hanging loosely on a piece of equipment until a trainer politely asked him if he was planning on doing something--and his gaze would dart away. On one memorable occasion, Wonshik had turned from the bench to find Hakyeon hopping on one foot after accidentally dropping a medicine ball on his toes.

“See, this is why I don't usually go with you. I get distracted,” Hakyeon had complained afterwards, crowding against him in the shower stall, his hands slick with water and his lips wet.

“Sorry,” Wonshik gasped, even though it was kind of hilarious.

"You should be." Hakyeon pushed closer to him, biting his lip when he drew his hands along Wonshik's wet skin, as if feeling the flex of the muscles underneath. 

Wonshik could maybe even trace it back to last year, when Hakyeon had first insisted on going with him to the gym a lot. Wonshik didn't notice until later that Hakyeon had kept tagging along in an attempt to keep a fretful eye on his exercise habits, trying not to be obvious about it. 

Wonshik was better about it now. It was nice that Hakyeon didn't come to the gym with him now to hover anxiously, but to do a few exercises and then get distracted with asking Wonshik to do some pushups while Hakyeon sat on his back. He was being careful, eating well, and it felt good to have Hakyeon passing his hands over his body in appreciation, rather than worry.

So, okay, the idea of sexy naked chin-ups was kind of weird. But he trusted Hakyeon, and he kind of knew where it was coming from, and he was curious to know where this was going.

Hakyeon caught his mouth, kissing him lush and easy. It was nice to feel like they had all the time in the world. When they broke apart, Hakyeon pressed on his shoulder for him to kneel, gently implacable, and heat rushed up his spine.

“Is it at a good height?” Hakyeon asked when he was kneeling on the mat beneath the bar.

Wonshik reached up to hang on to the chin-up bar above him, his back straight and his arms at a comfortable full extension. “Yeah, it’s good.” 

“Okay.” Hakyeon guided his ankles to cross over each other. Wonshik looked over his shoulder as Hakyeon bound his ankles together, careful and precise about it. Then, Hakyeon stood up and rummaged through the bag he had brought with them—one of the bags he had stolen from Wonshik, of course.

“Are you ever going to give me that bag back?” Wonshik called across the room. 

“What do you mean? It's mine, isn't it?” Hakyeon said, his eyes wide and innocent.

“Really? Because—”

Wonshik felt his reply dry up in his mouth as Hakyeon came back over with a familiar pair of nipple clamps, the kind that Hakyeon used on him when he wanted to take advantage of the fact that Wonshik's nipples were. Really sensitive. He looked up as Hakyeon looped the chain of the nipple clamps over the bar. It looked like he had extended it, made it longer.

“Sit up a bit,” Hakyeon said with a casual gesture, holding a clamp in one hand. “No, no, a bit more.” 

Wonshik lifted himself up, just a bit. Hakyeon hummed, approving, and reached for him. His hands were almost perfunctory in the way he rubbed at his nipple and then fastened one of the clips. Wonshik couldn’t help but gasp at the pinch as it tightened, bit his lip. He thought he might know where he was going. Hakyeon fastened the other clamp, and Wonshik’s breath hissed out of him.

“Okay, you can go down again,” Hakyeon said casually.

Wonshik looked at him, at his dark, playful eyes, and slowly brought himself down. He felt the chain going taut, the pinch on his nipples pulling a gasp out of him. Hakyeon looked at him and raised his eyebrows, steady, unyielding. 

He bit his lip and settled all the way down, jerking up again when the chain reached its full length, the ruthless pull at his nipples stopping his short. The chain was just the slightest bit too short, and Wonshik felt strung up, caught. He pressed his forehead against his arm and tried to breathe through it.

“Good?” Hakyeon asked.

“My form isn’t going to be great,” he said, when he thought he could speak without squeaking.

‘That’s okay. Just be careful, right? Don’t go so hard that you injure yourself. Stop if you need to,” Hakyeon said. “Let go of the bar, and you’re done.”

Hakyeon reached in the bag once to bring out a sleep mask, and stepped towards Wonshik, offering it up in his hands. Wonshik nodded. He bent his head, and Hakyeon settled the mask over his eyes, blinding him. 

His breathing was loud in his ears. All he could feel was the burning pinch on his nipples, his knees on the mat, the cinch of the rope around his ankles, the solid bar as his grip tightened on it. He felt Hakyeon’s fingers stroking over his ears and settling at the crook of his neck, fond.

“Thirteen reps, please? All the way up and all the way down.”

Fifteen was his usual, these days. Thirteen should be relatively easy.

He breathed in and braced himself. Core centered, hips stable, try to keep everything lined up. Lead from the chest. Draw the shoulder blades together and down. Lift. 

The pull of the clamps at his nipples loosened just a little, a moment of relief when he pulled himself up. Stayed controlled. Came back down, keeping the elbows close to the body. 

The clips pulled tight again, startling a noise from him. Okay. Okay okay okay. He breathed through his nose, trying to keep it slow, controlled. His knees hit the mat again, and he felt Hakyeon’s hand on his neck again, approving.

“Just like that.”

Two: stay centered, lift, keep everything lined up. When he pulled up, the motion of the exercise was familiar, ground into his body from sessions at the gym. It was always a little harder, maybe, to do them from a dead stop, rather than keeping the motion going, but that was okay. He had done these during training tons of times.

But he had never felt so, so aware of his entire body: the stretch of his muscles, the gentle cinch around his ankles, the sharp sting pulling at his nipples. And Hakyeon watching him. 

Three.

When he sank down, there was a touch at his back, dipping lower between his cheeks, stopping him short. And then—oh, oh fuck, the slick, solid press of something at his hole. He jerked back up by reflex. 

“Why are you stopping?” Hakyeon’s voice, steady, stern. Now he knew why Hakyeon had asked him to open himself up before this.

He bit his lip and let himself drop slowly, and oh, oh fuck, the smooth girth of a plug sank inside him, filling him in one slick, inexorable stroke. His knees hit the mat, the chain of the clamps pulling tight. For a second, he couldn’t think, could only hang there and try to breathe through it, the tight, pinching pull on his chest, the insistent fullness inside him. Strung up and wriggling like a worm on a hook. His head hung between his arms to try as he tried to find his breath again. 

A touch on his arm, pulling his attention.

“You’ve got ten more, hm? No slacking.” It sounded exactly like Hakyeon scolding them in the practice room and nothing like it. 

Wonshik braced himself, tried to center himself again, and it just seemed to pull his body tighter around the plug inside him, leaving him gasping. The pull of the clips loosened again as he brought himself up, tried to focus on keeping his body straight. Paused for a second at the apex of the pull, trying not to tremble with the effort of holding himself up. Breathed through it. 

Came back down. The clamps pulled tight, and his mouth fell open. Knees on the mat. Arms extended. All of him filled up and pulled taut. 

“Wait.”

A touch at the back of his thighs. And—oh, oh fuck. He heard a soft hiss before he felt the plug pressing more insistently inside him. It felt—bigger. Thicker, just a little. He wriggled his hips back, biting his hips, trying to adjust to the pressure, but the pull at his nipples jerked him back to attention, keeping him straight-backed.

Hakyeon's hand on his back, stroking over his skin. 

“Good?”

Wonshik nodded frantically.

“Mm. Continue, please.”

The fifth was okay. The sixth was harder. He came back down, his arms shaking. 

He could almost feel Hakyeon watching him and the strung-up, desperate length of his body, expectant. The plug felt so thick inside him again, a heavy pressure inside that kept on leaving him panting, his body filled and strung up by his chest. It was so much. He was already so hard. His dick was dripping wet. He could feel it bumping against his belly with every heaving breath he took.

A touch on his jaw, gentle, stern.

“Continue, please.” 

Seven. Breathe. Pull up. Pause. Come down. Try not to shake apart.

Eight. Nine had him shaking, his arms almost giving out on him. He was gasping, his muscles burning, his hips jerking back against the plug thick and inexorable inside him. He pressed his forehead against his arm, biting his lips. 

A touch at his back, wordlessly ordering him to go on.

Ten. Wonshik tried to go slow, controlled when he came down, he did, but his arms were so, so tired, the muscles shaking, and he couldn't help but drop down. The clamps on his nipples pulled tight. He arched his back up to try and lessen their bite just a bit, but it was no use, the sting still fresh and strong. The plug inside him felt wider, thicker, more insistent, and oh, oh fuck, almost at the limit of what he could take. He jerked back up, some reflex trying to escape the inescapable pressure on all sides. but his arms shook, his muscles too tired to hold him up. It was so much, and he didn't know if he could take it. 

When his knees hit the mat, all he could do was hang from the bar, sit and shake and try to breathe, caught on all sides, stuffed full and strung up and blind.

A lingering touch, stroking all the way down the strained lines of his arms and then the length of his back, as if feeling the desperate flex of his muscles under his skin. 

“ _Wonshik_ ,” Hakyeon said, his voice thick, lush. “You’re so good like this. So pretty. So strong.”

He wanted to let go of the bar, to drop back into Hakyeon’s arms. He wanted to do well, to complete the task that was set out for him, to live up to Hakyeon’s expectations of him. He wanted to stay like this forever, desperate and strung out and caught on all sides. 

He tried to say something. He didn’t know what. He couldn’t find the breath for it anyway, his voice reduced to thick panting. Hakyeon’s hand shifted the plug inside him, tugging at it until he could feel the pressure against his rim, and then pushed it back in, seating it more fully inside him, and it broke his voice, made it thin and whining and desperate. Lips on the back of his neck, dry and soft, and Wonshik couldn’t tell if the touch was meant to soothe or to kick his frayed senses higher into overdrive. Maybe both. His hips bucked up, but there was nothing to rub against, nothing to relieve the desperate tightness building in his skin. 

And then Hakyeon’s touch disappeared from his skin again.

“Three more.”

He felt weak, shaky, caught in the darkness, too conscious of every fibre of his body. He tightened his grip on the bar, solid and steady in his hands. He could do this. He could. For Hakyeon, he could.

He didn't know where he found the strength to lift himself up, only that he did. Up, and then back down. He could still feel every thick inch of the plug inside him, but it felt like it fit more easily now. Eleven. He lifted up, and Hakyeon was touching him once more, as if feeling the flex of his muscles, their trembling when he sank back down. 

Twelve. 

He was so close. 

“One more. Or should I have you keep going, hm?” 

He couldn't. He couldn't.

“Finish, and then we’ll see.”

He moaned brokenly, and—and somehow, he lifted himself. Slow, shaky, but he did it.

Crested, and then dropped back down, jerky, uncontrolled. He was done. He didn’t have anything else to give.

And then: Hakyeon pressing against his back, the cool touch of his clothing against his burning skin, Hakyeon's steady body against him, crowding in to touch him everywhere. He could feel the hard length of Hakyeon's dick against his ass, Hakyeon's hips moving against him, and Wonshik pressed back into his touch, begging for something, anything, everything.

“Oh, Wonshik, you’re so good, so good. You did so well.” Hakyeon’s voice was thick and proud, and Wonshik felt wrecked, ecstatic, filled to the brim with hot, sweet wine and drunk with it.

His arms were burning, and he leaned against Hakyeon, feeling weak and shaky and giddy and desperate. The burning pull on his nipples loosened and lifted away, one and then the other, and the feeling rushed back to them, tingling and burning and too much. He cried out and clutched at the bar, Hakyeon’s fingers pressing against his nipples, massaging the feeling back into them, and Wonshik wanted to lean into his touch and shrink away from it all at once. 

When Hakyeon wrapped his hand around his dick, he didn’t tease, gave it to him fast and tight, the way he needed it. Hakyeon’s voice was rough and beautiful as he told him how good he was, how strong, his breath hot against Wonshik’s ear. Hakyeon tugged a little at the plug inside him, the girth teasing at his rim, his hand steady and tight around his dick, and Wonshik shook, and shook, and spilled into Hakyeon’s hand, everything heat and light.

He felt hands gently urging his grip off the bar. A dim spark of fear flashed through the soft darkness, because he didn't think he could hold himself up, felt like he might just fall over into nothing. But the cradle of Hakyeon’s arms was there when he tipped over, his hold solid, reliable, and it felt okay to just—give himself over to him, limp and boneless. The fabric of Hakyeon’s sweatpants was soft against his skin. 

The pressure inside him eased, and his lips parted on a low, grateful sound. He felt the gentle touch of fingers easing the plug out of him. The bonds around his ankles loosened. 

Fingertips on the edge of the face mask. Wonshik made a noise, tried to lift his arms, but they were too tired, too limp. The fingers stilled.

“Not yet?” 

Wonshik shook his head. Hakyeon made an understanding noise, shifting them around so that Wonshik’s head was in his lap, his hands making long strokes over his sides, as if Wonshik were an animal to be calmed and soothed. 

He hung in the dark for a long time, Hakyeon’s hands warm and steady on his skin. 

Eventually, he tipped his head over, tried to find the line of Hakyeon’s dick in his sweatpants. 

“Do you want—” he rasped. He cleared his throat, trying to find his voice again.

Hakyeon’s hands cradled his head, gently tipping it away and carding through his hair. “Not now. Shh.” 

When Wonshik took the mask off, Hakyeon’s smile was soft and proud, and Wonshik felt something twist in his chest, sweet and powerful as sun casting through a window. 

Eventually, Hakyeon helped him stand up, drew him over to the bed and arranged him on his front so that he could sit on Wonshik’s back and massage the ache out of his limbs, his hands firm and strong. Hakyeon’s lithe weight on his body was good, kept him from floating away. The firm motions of his hands grounded him in his body, weighed him down with a sweet ache in his limbs. 

Wonshik was a limp, relaxed puddle once Hakyeon was done with him. He felt the bed dip as Hakyeon settled at his side, his chin propped on his arms. He was pretty and flushed, color high in his cheeks and his hair mussed. Wonshik rolled over to him, slipping his hand into his sweatpants, and Hakyeon pushed his hips into his hand, making a pleased noise.

“Thanks,” Wonshik said, slowly working his hand against the warm swell of his dick. “You like my body that much, huh?”

Hakyeon hummed, considering. He reached out, drawing his hand over Wonshik’s bicep and then squeezing it, lazy and a little possessive. Wonshik’s neck prickled. 

“Don’t get a big head about it.”

“Yeah? You can’t stop mentioning it, though. Maybe you should actually talk about our album in interviews, for once.”

“Mm. That’s your job. And it’s good promotion, right?” Hakyeon’s eyes fluttered closed, and he crowded closer to Wonshik, hungry for touch as always. “It’s not the only thing I like, though. I like a lot of things about you.”

Wonshik flushed, ducking his head. Hakyeon laughed, bright and delighted, and crowded in to kiss him. Wonshik opened his mouth, gathered him close, drank him in.


End file.
